


just a little bit of magic (80s Song Prompts)

by Dresupi



Series: 80s Song Prompts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Dream Sex, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hook-Up, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Innuendo, Lack of Communication, Love Confessions, M/M, Marauders' Era, Marriage Proposal, Misuse of Time Turner, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Nudity, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Smut, Time Travel Fix-It, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:19:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: A series of 80's song prompts I took on tumblr. People gave me an 80's song and a Harry Potter ship and I wrote a one-shot using the song as inspiration.Different pairings, different ratings.First chapter is the table of contents.Explicit chapters are marked with an '*'.





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatieHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/gifts), [TallyDubh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallyDubh/gifts), [Dwynn_5002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwynn_5002/gifts), [HugBubble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HugBubble/gifts), [argylsocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argylsocks/gifts), [aspiring_trashfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiring_trashfire/gifts), [starfishdancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishdancer/gifts), [phoenix_173](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_173/gifts), [Little_Plebe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Plebe/gifts), [stereden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereden/gifts), [sleepygrimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepygrimm/gifts).



1\.  Table of Contents

2\.   ***** '[Sledgehammer' - Peter Gabriel; Newt Scamander/Tina Goldstein; for katiehavok](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/25222146)

3\.  '[Kokomo' - The Beach Boys; Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger; for taleasedubh](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/25233996)

4\.   ***** '[You Shook Me All Night Long' - AC/DC; Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson; for dwyn5002](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/25279683)

5\.  '[Never Tear Us Apart' - INXS; Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski; for hug-bubble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/25947774)

6\.  '[Thriller' - Michael Jackson; James Potter/Lily Evans w/ minor Remus Lupin/Sirius Black; for argylsocks](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/25971375)

7\.  '[Headed for the Future' - Neil Diamond; Remus Lupin/Sirius Black; for aspiring-trashfire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/25988829)

8\.  '[Heaven' - Bryan Adams; Hermione Granger/Oliver Wood; for thestarfishdancer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/26646360)

9\.  '[Under Pressure' - Queen and David Bowie; Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin/Sirius Black; for phoenix-173](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/26829642)

10\.   ***** '[Listen to Your Heart' - Roxette; George Weasley/Hermione Granger; for webuiltthiscityonescargot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/26931366)

11\.  '[Don't You (Forget About Me)' - Simple Minds; Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley; for littleplebe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/27030873)

12\.   ***** '[Need You Tonight' - INXS - Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson; for pegasusdragontiger](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/27161814)

13.  '[Eye of the Tiger' - Survivor - Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood; for stereden](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/27415230)  

14. ***** '[Lovesong' - The Cure - Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger; for sleepygrimm](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/30717849)

15.  '[True Faith' - New Order - James Potter/Lily Evans; for amidtheflowers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/30792015)

16.  '[Karma Chameleon' - Culture Club - Fred Weasley/Hermione Granger; for anon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/30862164)

 


	2. *Newt/Tina; 'Sledgehammer' - Peter Gabriel; for katiehavok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g93mz_eZ5N4).

“Newt, are you coming?”  Tina asked, her arm was extended towards him, palm up.  

“Yes, yes, I’m...I’m right behind you,” he answered, reaching out to take her hand.  Knowing it was a mistake the second they touched.  

Her skin was too soft.  Too warm.  Too damned inviting. 

Newt was almost overcome with the sensation of it.  The similarities to how it had felt when --  no.  

No, no, he simply couldn’t allow that thought to gain purchase. 

He hadn’t been himself at all today.  Not since he’d woken that morning.  ‘Getting up on the wrong side of the bed’, Queenie had called it, sending a wink in his direction before breezing out of the kitchen. 

Queenie knowing made it all worse somehow. 

He felt terrible.  And he’d gone the entire day feeling this way, bearing these thoughts.  

Memories and sensations from a  _ dream _ .  

A very realistic dream of the like that he hadn’t had in years.  Not since he was a teenager.  

But here he was, a very grown man, still having dreams like the recurring one he’d been having.  Dreams that left him sweaty, with the sticky remnants of release drying on his thighs.  With the memory of moans and sighs.  Of scents and sensations.  Of muscle memory that he  _ shouldn’t _ have.  

Of images. Pictures.  Moments that never happened.  All frozen and held captive in his psyche.    

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see  _ her _ .  Just as she was in the dream.

Tina.  Porpentina.  

_ His Tina... _

Dark hair fanned out upon his pillow as he pressed repeatedly into her willing body.  Her  _ wet _ and willing body.  

She murmured his name, told him how good it felt, how good he made her feel.  Urging him to finish, to have his release because she wished it.  Wanted it.  Craved it as much as her own. 

And so his dream self had surged on.  Pumping his hips and thrusting into her warmth.  It felt so real.  So perfect.  It was almost as if the real world had slipped away and he only existed in this dream.   

He’d been born for this.  His waist was made for her legs to wrap around.  He was created to fill her.

He awoke, after doing as the Tina in his dream had urged him. After coming so hard his vision blurred.    

It had been intense.  A jaw-dropping, stammering sort of intense.  Toe-curling and utterly perfect. 

Except, upon opening his eyes, it became clear that his decisions in his dream had very viscerally affected his reality, and he was left having to clean himself up quietly. He made sure to check the sheets on the bed in the Goldstein sisters’ spare room, not wanting to leave anything up to chance.   

He’d eaten breakfast with a permanent blush upon his cheeks and had somehow endured the embarrassment of Queenie knowing what was truly bothering him. 

It wasn’t the events of the dream.  Or the fact that Queenie knew about them.  

It was that for whatever reason, one he couldn’t begin to fathom, he wanted  _ Tina _ to know about them too.  More than anything, he wanted her to know.

He wanted to tell her he dreamed of her.  And  _ how _ he dreamed of her.  

How every subtle glance from her in his direction gave him hope that one day he could touch her that way.  That he could be the driving force between her thighs.  That he could taste her skin.  Wrap himself up in her until there was no telling where she ended and where he began.  

And what he desired, more than even this...was for Tina to feel the same way about him.  

But how could she possibly know?  And how could he tell her?

He felt her eyes linger on him occasionally.  Sometimes it was quizzical, as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle.  And other times, there was a warmth in her gaze.  A fondness that he treasured.  

It was this fondness that he held onto for dear life.      

It wouldn’t be proper to tell her.  Newt knew this.  It was bad enough that Queenie had to see it.  

Tina squeezed his hand as they walked, lacing their fingers and bringing him back to the present.  To the topic at hand.  

To the creature they were chasing.  The creature.  Of course.  That was why he was in New York again.  To track some sort of creature.  

‘Big spiders’ was the only descriptor he could get out of anyone.  ‘Big spiders’.  It couldn’t possibly be an acromantula, since there was no place in the city for a colony to grow.  

So he wasn’t very concerned with it. 

And it wasn’t the reason he was in New York.  He’d been kidding himself to think that in the first place.  

Tina was the reason.  His one and only reason for returning. He came back time and again.  Sometimes only for hours between trips.  

And it was all to see her.  

He was addicted to her.  Not in the way an addict craved his drug.  Or a drunk craved his drink.  

No, there was no analogy that fit the way he craved her presence.  He supposed it was wrong to call it an addiction.  It was a need.  A basic necessity.  He needed Tina in his life like air in his lungs.  

Yes, Tina was the reason he was here inspecting what he wholeheartedly expected to be an infestation of spiders.  But on paper, the spiders were suspicious.  

He’d only just admitted to himself that he was here for Porpentina Goldstein.  He wasn’t about to admit it to anyone else, much less his editor or supervisor at the Ministry.    

So he was treating this as he would any other magical creature sighting.  

If perhaps with slightly less seriousness.

“This is the house where the complaints started…” Tina explained to him, her hand still clutched around his.  A little more tightly than usual, if he did say so himself.  

They looked up at the blue house in front of them.  One of many on a crowded street.  

“Miss Goldstein…” Newt murmured, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.  “Are you frightened of spiders?”  

Her grip on his hand loosened, but never let go altogether.  

“Let’s just...go in and see if it’s an acromantula, before I answer that question.  They are a class five dangerous beast, aren’t they?”  

The smile tugged even more.  “Have you read my book, Tina?”  

She exhaled briskly, pulling him along after her.  “Of course I have...I’m not sure how that’s even a question…why wouldn’t I have read it?”  

He didn’t answer, simply following her up to the front door. 

“I don’t think I could have thought about some of those creatures in my wildest dreams,” she continued.  

“Do you find yourself having particularly wild dreams?” Newt asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the door knocker.  

Her fingers tightened around his hand momentarily before relaxing again.  “I think some of my dreams would surprise you, Mr. Scamander.”  


	3. Draco/Hermione; 'Kokomo' by the Beach Boys; for taleasedubh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJWmbLS2_ec).

Of all the people in all the world, both magical and not, the very last person Hermione ever imagined she’d be seeing when she stepped into the lobby of her Hawaii resort hotel was Draco Malfoy.  

Did she mention it was a  _ Muggle _ resort hotel?  Because it was. It absolutely was.  

The only thing more mortifying than going on holiday with one’s middle-aged parents, was if the holiday was also a retreat for dentists.  Which this was.  

And if one was coming in freshly chucked by their fiance.  (Which she was).

And if one was all alone for the first time in years. (Which she was).

All of these things were true.  And now Draco Malfoy was here on top of it all.  

“Oh, bugger…” Hermione muttered under her breath, hoping to Merlin he hadn’t seen her.  

His gaze caught onto hers and he raised his eyebrows, crossing the floor towards her.  

So much for any help from Merlin.  Blast these dead wizards.  

Oh, that sounded awful.  

But all the same.  

“Malfoy…” she said with a falseness that belied her discomfort.  “Fancy seeing you here.”  

He smirked, crossing his arms over his spotless white shirt and shifting his weight to his other hip.  “Granger, you’re looking well.  It appears you’ve gotten lighter?  Perhaps you’ve lost about one-hundred-eighty pounds of red haired git since I’ve seen you last.”  

The mention of Ron stung more than she thought it would.  But she’d be damned if she was going to let Malfoy know that.  

She shrugged noncommittally, letting one hand slide up her hip to rest on her waist in what she hoped was a look of utter nonchalance and poise.  “I suppose.”  

“It’s a good look on you.  Might want to consider it for the long term.”  

“I did.  Consider it.  Liked what I saw.  Now I’m off to have brunch and spend the day by the pool.”  

He looked surprised.  “Really? You chucked the buffoon?  That’s...interesting…” He chuckled to himself and looked to be finished or bored with the conversation.  

Hermione tilted her head in way of goodbye and walked quickly towards the dining room.  

“Oh, Granger?”  Malfoy turned, shoving one hand into his khakis and looking all the more pretentious for doing so.  

“Hmm?” She turned back to face him.  

“It’s pouring outside.  You might want to stick to the indoor pool.”

She nodded in way of thanks and turned again to make her way to the dining room.  

* * *

 

She didn’t even attempt to try the indoor pool.  She’d seen through the plate glass that surrounded it that it was completely full of pasty dentists.  

Her mum and dad were busy all day with conference business, learning about the newest teeth cleaning systems and flossing techniques, no doubt.  Hermione decided to take full advantage of the empty suite and get some reading done.  

The minutes ticked by so slowly and she found herself rereading the same passage over and over again.  

And that’s when she contemplated doing something that she hadn’t done in years.  She glanced sideways at the telly, the remote control on the bed where her dad had chucked it that morning.

No, no.  She wasn’t that desperate yet.    

She tossed her book on the bed beside it and walked with purpose towards the door.  She slipped on her shoes and made her way back down to the ground floor.  This hotel boasted top amenities and she needed  _ something _ to keep her mind occupied, or it was going to stick itself to Ron again.  

Ron, who had done the thing neither of them had wanted, but desperately needed to do.   The relationship was dead.  A shell.  They were right not to get married young.  They were never in love as Harry and Ginny had been.  

Hermione had once thought it was because love was different for different people.  That she’d grow to feel for Ron the way Ginny felt for Harry.  

But it never happened.  And the engagement ring sat dormant on her finger.  

But now?  Now she was lost because she’d never been without him.  She didn’t know how to flirt or play coy or be attractive, because Ron had always been there.  

She was twenty-five years old.  And apparently had little to no idea what her type was.  

And had no single friends to help her.  

And was on holiday with her parents.  

She chewed nervously on her bottom lip and sat herself down at the bar she’d somehow made her way to.  

She sat there, clutching her pocketbook with white knuckles and attempting to read the drink list with bleary eyes.  

“You’re really bad at this, aren’t you, Granger?”  Malfoy’s voice broke the drone of monotonous voices and she felt a leap of something in her belly.  Something that wasn’t dread.  

Blinking she frowned slightly.  “Bad at what?”  

“At being single…” he said with a wave of his hand.  “This whole...meat market…” That last bit was borderline disdainful.  

“What are you even doing here?  This is a muggle resort,” Hermione asked.  

“It’s one of the finest on the islands.  Muggle or magical.  It’s difficult to obtain a reservation.  I was lucky to get this one.  Of course, now that I see there are a bunch of muggle doctors here...well...I can see why there was an opening.”  

“Not doctors.  Dentists,” she corrected him.  

“Same thing,” he said flippantly.  

“Not exactly.  All dentists are doctors.  Not all doctors are dentists.  Dentists work on teeth.”  

“Your lot has a whole separate doctor for teeth?  Fascinating.”  

She shrugged.  “I suppose.  It’s what my parents do…”  

“Your parents are here?” he asked, suddenly interested.  Hermione wanted to shrink down beneath the table.  “I’d very much like to meet them.”  

“Why?”  

“Well, for one.  To ask about their profession.  And for another, to ask them if you’ve always been an insufferable know-it-all, or if it only happened after you started attending Hogwarts.”  

She chuckled.  “Always have been, I’m afraid.”  

“Well.  At least you’re consistent.”  

“I suppose.”  

The bartender approached them and Draco ended up ordering for both of them, which might have annoyed Hermione at one time, but she found it relieving in the current instance.  

“So, can I pet the erumpet in the room and ask why you left the Weasel?” he asked once the bartender had gone.  

Hermione sighed.  “I might have...borne false witness earlier by allowing you to think that I left him...when the truth of it is...he left me.”  

“Weasley’s an idiot,” he stated bluntly.  

“I’m sure you’re right, but why?”  Hermione asked.  “We weren’t good for one another.  We were stagnant…” she reached down instinctively to rub her left ring finger.  “I didn’t love him.”  

Draco scoffed.  “He’s still an idiot.  You both are, but for different reasons.  How long has it been?”  

“Two weeks…” she answered.  

He turned to stare at her.  “Two weeks?  Two weeks and you’re on holiday with your parents?  Two weeks and you’re staring at your lap in a hotel bar?  Granger.  You’ve got to pull yourself together.”  

She stared at him.  He continued to speak.  

“It’s been three years for me.  Three years since Astoria broke off our engagement.  I’m still not attached to anyone.  I have a right to be bitter and sore about things.  You?  You should be…” He gestured vaguely.  “Inviting some younger man up to your room.”  

“To my parents’ room?” she snorted.  “And I’m twenty-five, how much younger can they get?”

“You’re twenty-five?”  Draco squinted at her.  “I could have sworn I was older than you.”  

She sniffed in response.  “Perhaps I should be taking  _ you _ up to my room.” 

He didn’t answer her for a long moment.  His eyes swept over her face, likely trying to ascertain if she was kidding or not.  

And the truth of it was...she wasn’t sure she  _ was _ kidding.  Taking in the sight of him here...some slight color in his cheeks for once.  The way those chinos hung from his hips like he was some kind of runway model and they made the bloody things just for him.  

Hermione found herself waiting with baited breath for his response.  

He arched an eyebrow invitingly.  “Only if you insist, Granger.”  


	4. *Harry/Pansy; 'You Shook Me All Night Long' - AC/DC; for dwyn5002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo2qQmj0_h4).

Pansy’s tongue slid into Harry’s mouth, flicking against his and making him feel weak.  

He’d gone into that muggle pub tonight with the intention of getting shitfaced.  He’d fully expected to make a lot of drunken mistakes.  

But he’d never even made it up to the bar.  Pansy was there.   Pansy with her dark eyes and her dark hair and her red lips.  Pansy, with her wand in her pocket in a muggle pub.  

With a bunch of muggle girls squealing and carrying on in the back corner.  “Designated Driver”, she informed him, pointing to a purple stamp on her hand.    

Harry hadn’t even seen her since after they all retook their seventh year at Hogwarts.  The last he’d heard, she’d gone off to a muggle college to learn about business finance and to break her mother’s heart.  (This was according to the elder Ms. Parkinson, of course.  She and Harry frequented the same restaurant for lunch and while they never sat together, her voice really carried.)

He assumed her degree was only for business finance, however.  He didn’t know a lot about Muggle colleges, but he assumed they didn’t offer a ‘breaking your mother’s heart’ program.  

Unless one counted Liberal Arts.   

Pansy’s nails scratched at his scalp, jolting him from the reminiscence.  “You still with me, Potter?”  

He grunted an affirmation, his own hands busy running up the backs of her denim clad thighs, cupping her arse and pulling her flush against him, feeling so relieved that he’d seen her first.  Before he’d made a inebriated fool of himself.  

Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, her hands tugging at his hair like she was trying to rip him in half.  

He hoisted her up on the front of him and made for the bed.  

He’d seen in on his way in.  

It had been hard to miss in the loft flat, taking up most of the main room.  He was surprised that she hadn’t enlarged it magically.  

“Not there…” she murmured, one hand releasing his hair and pointing languidly at what looked like a pantry cupboard.  

Of course, upon opening it, he realized that she had indeed enlarged it magically.  

It was enormous.  And he had all of Pansy hanging off the front of him.  She wasn’t heavy by any stretch, but he didn’t think he’d ever wanted someone as badly as he wanted her.  And every step was pure, tantric torture.  

She hopped down off his front, smirking as she reached for his hand.  “This way, you git.  Can’t have you running into every bleeding thing in the room…” 

Harry felt his lips tug upward into a smile.  Not his first of the evening, thanks to her.  He felt he had smiled more that night than he had in ages.  

He’d finally felt the sting of loneliness.  And it had only taken him a year since Ginny left. 

A whole year to feel the clapback of the end of the biggest relationship of his life.  A whole year of nothing, then two weeks in his lounge pants staring at the wall, culminating in the decision to drink himself stupid with people he didn’t know. Or more importantly, with people who didn’t know Ginny.  

Pansy pulled him down the hallway, opening her bedroom door and tugging him in after her.  

She turned to face him again, her hands sliding up his chest and over his neck to cup his face.  “I like this…” she murmured, her fingers running over his beard.  A result of two weeks without shaving.  

He felt his eyes flutter closed as she kissed him again. “I’ll keep it if you want.”   

She chuckled.  “Not sure what I want yet...hope that’s okay?”  

His eyes opened and met hers. He nodded.  “That’s fine.”  

“I mean...beyond...tonight…” she tugged his hands over to cup her breasts.  “Tonight, I want...everything...okay?”  

He ran his thumbs over them.  No bra.  Thin top.  Her nipples were poking out.  Stiff peaks beneath the silky fabric.  “Okay…” he rasped, leaning down to capture her lips again.  She reached for the waist of his trousers, hooking her fingers in it as she tugged him back towards the bed.  

He didn’t think he’d ever in his life gotten a woman’s clothing off as quickly as he got Pansy’s off.  

She was straddling him nude in what felt like seconds, pointing her wand at her belly and mumbling a contraceptive charm.  She tossed it off the bed and leaned over him, her breasts brushing against him as she kissed him once more.  

“Nothing funny, you follow me, Potter?  No spanking, no choking, no poking around my bum, got it?”  

Harry raised his eyebrows.  “To be honest, the thought hadn’t occurred to me…”  

Her hand carded through his hair, tousling it.  “You really are a nice boy, aren’t you?”  

He smirked, and slid his hands up her thighs.  “I dunno about nice...but I’ll do my best…” 

Pansy’s hand dragged down his chest, her nails raking his flesh slightly as she reached down to wrap her hand around his length.  

He was stiff already, growing harder in her hand as she stroked him smoothly.  Her thumb swirling over the tip.  He bucked up into her hand, his own moving up to cover her breasts, to flick and pluck at her nipples until she rasped out his name.  

“Harry…” she murmured.  “Are you in a hurry?”   

“No…” he replied, watching her as she arched into his touch, her sex rubbing against the base of his.  Her hand dropped from his cock, leaving it to wrap around his wrists.  

She rocked her hips, sliding along his shaft and using him for her pleasure. 

“Are you?” he countered, lightly pinching her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Not at all, I have all night…”

He licked his lips and bucked up slightly beneath her, revelling in the tiny gasp she emitted.  

She released his wrists, reaching down to wrap around him again, lining him up so she could sink down on top of him.  

He grunted as she enveloped him with her slick heat, pulling him in deeper and deeper until her hips met his.     

“I hope you weren’t expecting any sleep…” Pansy said with a wink.  “I might not be in a hurry, but I have lots of plans for you, Potter…”  


	5. Jacob/Queenie - 'Never Tear Us Apart' by INXS - for hug-bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 19 July 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/163194259949/never-tear-us-apart).
> 
> Song is 'Never Tear Us Apart' by INXS; 1987.

The letter fluttered to the floor as it slipped from Queenie’s fingers, it floated freely in the suddenly stifling air of the room.

Jacob reached for her hand. “Bad news, doll?”  

She nodded, sniffing back tears.  “It’s a final warning from MACUSA…”  

Tina summoned the sheet of paper, reading through it quickly, her lips pursing ever tighter the further down the page she got.  They’d all but disappeared once she finished, placing the letter on the kitchen table in front of her, straightening the corners and squaring up the edges so it sat perfectly parallel in front of her.  She tapped her finger on the surface impatiently, crossing and uncrossing her legs beneath the table.  

Jacob’s hand tightened in Queenie’s, glancing worriedly over at Tina.  “So...I guess this is it, then?”  

“They want to come obliviate you again,” Tina said tightly, her brown eyes glancing up at Queenie’s face, the sympathy almost palpable.  

Queenie was grateful for her sister’s frankness.  She was never good at delivering bad news. 

_ We’ll figure something out… _ Tina projected towards her.  

She shot her sister a soft smile.  She wanted nothing more than to believe her.  

“They asked me to do it.  But if I’m ‘unable’, then they’ll send an auror to do it for me,” Queenie elaborated.  She turned to look at Jacob.  At her Jacob.  Her Jacob who had only just come back to her.  For three weeks of bliss before MACUSA found out.  

The tears began to fall.  Unbidden.  Unprovoked.  They’d been waiting there in the corners of her eyes for this entire discussion.  Since she’d gotten the letter.  But now, they fell freely.  

Jacob put his arms around her.  She wasn’t sure how she ended up right beside him, she didn’t remember moving a bit.  But she buried her face in his shoulder and wept.  His hands smoothed up and down her back as he made soft shushing sounds.  Not designed to do anything other than comfort, and she knew it.  

She could hear Tina’s fingers drumming on the table and there was a sharp scent of ash in the air as she burned the letter up in front of them.  

Tina’s leg bounced and then she stood, pushing the chair back from the table with a force that surprised both Jacob and Queenie.  

“This is ludicrous,” Tina began, shoving the chair back under the table.  “You’re in love.  What does it matter if he’s a No-Maj or not?”  

Queenie sniffed.  “Tina…”  

“What does it matter, Queenie?”  Tina folded her arms over her chest.  “There must be some way to get around this.”  

“Not while we’re living in New York,” Queenie said absently, reaching up to dry her eyes.  

Tina stopped pacing, eyes wide as she stared off into space for a moment.  “Newt!”  She turned towards her bedroom and took off.  

They heard rummaging and a thump before she returned with two steam-liner tickets in hand.  “Queenie and I were supposed to go visit Newt in England.  I want you two to go instead.”  

“Teenie!”  Queenie shirked away from the proffered tickets. “Those are from Mr. Scamander, he intended to do something  _ very _ important on this visit.  We couldn’t take them!”  

“No, we couldn’t…” Jacob shook his head.  “There’s my bakery and…”  

“Do you know who loves pastries, Jacob?”  Tina asked, her eyebrows raising excitedly.  “The Brits.  They have a whole meal dedicated to tea and cakes.”  

“Now Tina, we--” he protested.  

“And they allow No-Mag/Mag marriages there.”  

“Regardless…” Queenie began.  “We can’t just get up and leave.”  

“Why not?” Tina asked.  “Why not?  You have a deadline, Queenie.  A week.  These tickets would have you out of here in three days.  You wouldn’t be breaking any laws.  Newt can help you find a job.  I’ll buy my own ticket when I am able.”

The tears were beginning to fall again.  “Tina…”  

“And how could I go to England...knowing Newt’s plans to propose...when your life is falling to pieces, Queenie?  What kind of sister would I be?”  

Queenie turned towards Jacob.  “What do you...what do you think, honey?”  She felt trepidation, a fear clenching around her heart.  There was still a chance he wouldn’t want to go.  He had his bakery here.  It was his dream.  She couldn’t ask him to give that up.  Not for her.  

His hand tightened around hers.  “We wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore...we could...get married, right?  Live together openly as husband and wife?”  

Queenie nodded. 

“Then, I’ll pack my bags…” He nodded his head, a grin slowly spreading.  “I doubt I could sell the store in three days time...but I could put it on the market.”  

“Are you sure?  Jacob?  It’s your bakery.  It’s your  _ dream _ , honey…” 

And like usual, she knew what he was gonna say before he said it.  

But she let him say it anyway.  Because hearing it was even more special than reading it in his thoughts.

“Queenie...doll... _ you’ve _ been my dream.  Ever since I met ya.  You’re all I could think about.  Even when I couldn't remember you.  I dreamed about a beautiful blonde with a knock-out smile and legs for days…the nicest dame in the world. That was you, sweetheart...and if you think I’m gonna let anything tear us apart, well...you’re gonna have to think again.” 

For the third time that afternoon, Queenie cried.  She threw her arms around his shoulders because Jacob,  _ her Jacob _ was the sweetest, most wonderful man in the world.  

“Do you think you’re gonna like England?” she asked, sniffling a little.  She summoned her handkerchief to dab at her eyes.  “Rains a lot.”  

“I’m bringing the sunshine with me, don’t think it’ll matter,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her lips.   She sighed into his embrace.  

Tina coughed, a loud, deliberate sound meant to remind them that she was still in the room, holding out a pair of steam-liner tickets.  

Which Queenie took, pulling her wonderful sister into a big hug.  “Thank you so much, Tina…please make sure Newt knows it’s Jacob coming and not you…”  

Tina laughed aloud.  “I’ll figure something out.”  

  
  



	6. James/Lily (with background Remus/Sirius) - 'Thriller' - for argylsocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 20 July 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/163226599694/thriller).
> 
> Song is 'Thriller' by Michael Jackson; 1982

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so…this prompt…there is a werewolf, there is a couple out alone in the woods, and there is some howling going on. ;) I hope you like what I did with this one. <3 
> 
> Also, there is an Anne of Green Gables reference in here. James’ old nickname for Lily is Carrots. Gilbert and Anne remind me so much of James and Lily, so I really couldn’t resist a little shout out. ;)

James reached over to clasp her hand in his.  “Lily?”  

“Hmm?”  She turned her head to look at him, green eyes glittering in the starlight.  

“You still want to get married?”  

She exhaled loudly. “I dunno, when you asked me ten minutes ago, it sounded like a good idea, but now I think it sounds rather boring…”  She arched her eyebrow facetiously.  

He rolled his eyes and tightened his hold on her hand, his fingers dragging over the diamond ring he’d given her.  “I just...I have some things I need to tell you...about me. And about others. I don’t think we should have secrets, Evans.”  

“You have secrets???”  She rolled over on her side to face him.  “So mysterious.  James, do tell.”  

“Well, I just... I think you should know that...now...bear in mind that you still have full freedom in this matter...if you don’t like or care for anything I tell you, you can back out.  Now, or in the future...I don’t want to lose you, Lily.  But I don’t want to lie to you either.”  

The mirth fell from her face and she propped herself up on her arm.  “What is it?”  

“I’m…” He licked his lips.  “I’m an unregistered Animagus.”  

He watched her face, waiting for the outburst.  The outrage.  What he wasn’t expecting was the relief.  The relief she was careful to hide quickly.  “Oh?” she asked off-handedly.  “Are you?!”  The surprise in her voice sounded forced.  

Because she already knew.  Of course she did.  His clever witch knew everything about him.  

“You already knew,” he stated with a sigh, rolling over onto his back and covering his eyes as the panic that had filled him began to dissipate.  “Wait…”  He dropped his hands.  “How did you know?”  

“You, Sirius and Peter held Mandrake leaves under your tongues for a month,” she said with a shrug.  “Didn’t really take a genius to figure that one out…”  

“Were we really that obvious?”  

“To someone who was paying attention, yes.”  She said with a smug grin.  

A smug grin James mirrored.  “You were paying attention to me, were you? Even then?”  

“Even then,” she admitted.  “Wanted to get you expelled for making fun of me.”  

“I didn’t make fun of you!” he protested.  

“You called me ‘Carrots’.”  

“That’s a term of endearment!”  

She snorted.  You weren’t capable of having endearments.”  

He reached out to tuck a strand of her lovely red hair behind her ear.  “Did you really hate it that much?”  

She nodded.  And he closed the distance between them, kissing her lips and nuzzling her nose with his.  “I’m sorry...I was a prat when I was younger.  If I had known--”  

“It’s the past, James.  I’ve moved on, obviously.  People grow up. And you’ve already apologized.”  

He kissed her again all the same. “I hate that you ever...disliked me so much.”  

“I don’t dislike you now.  I  _ am _ marrying you, after all,” she teased.  “Now.  James Potter.  Tell me more of your secrets.  Reveal your mysteries.”  

“This next one is not really mine to tell, but I got Remus’ permission...to tell you and...you already know this one too, don’t you?”  

“What?!”  She asked, obviously feigning surprise.  “I never, why of course not…”  

James tilted his head knowingly. 

“Alright, alright.  Yes.  If it’s that Remus is a werewolf...I’ve known it since first year.”  

“SINCE FIRST YEAR?”  He sat straight up.  “Sweet Merlin, Evans…you knew before I did!”  

She shrugged.  “People tend to underestimate me.  It’s one of my great strengths.  How underestimate-able I am.”  She sat up beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees.  

He shifted closer, leaning back on his hands in the grass.  “Alright then.  Why don’t you...the all-knowing-Lily Evans, tell me what you already know...and I’ll fill in the bits you don’t?”  

She laughed a little, scooting closer until she was flush against his side.  “Alright then.   I know that you, Peter and Sirius are unregistered Animagi, I know that Remus is a werewolf.  I know that Sirius and Remus are hopelessly in love with one another...I know that--”  

“Wait, wait, wait.  Back up…” James interrupted.   

“Back up to where?”  

“To that bit about Remus and Sirius…” He turned to look into her eyes.  “You’re having me on.”  

She erupted in laughter.  “No, I’m not!”  

“Remus.  And Sirius.  In love.  With one another?”  

“Oh James!  How could you not know?”  You’re having  _ me _ on!  You were so on board with me pairing them up tonight!”  

“Yes!  Because it meant I’d get to be alone with you!”  

“And because  _ they’d _ get to be alone without you and without Peter!”  Lily said with an exasperated sigh.   “Merlin’s beard…” she muttered under her breath. “You really are dense, aren’t you?”  

James’ mouth hung open. “You  _ said _ we’d be out here hunting snipe, Lily Evans.  And then we come to this clearing and there is no snipe being hunted, miss. No snipe being hunted at  _ all _ .”  

She laughed.  She fell back on the grass and laughed.   “James.  If I can be perfectly candid with you...snipe aren’t real...they’re a joke muggles play on other unsuspecting muggles. Or wizards in this case.  You tell someone you’re going on a snipe hunt and then you trick them into staying alone in the woods.  And then you leave them.”  

“Lily!  You were going to leave me out here in the woods?  You were going to abandon me! And after I proposed to you!”  

She reached over for his hand, tugging him down beside her on the grass again.  “I didn’t know you were going to propose, you silly sod…”  

He brightened immediately. “Oh you didn’t?  I thought you, the all-knowing-incredible-Lily Evans knew EVERYTHING?”  

She pulled him closer, kissing him softly.  “I certainly can’t ever tell what you’re going to do next.”  

“Obviously not.  If you can’t tell that I’m head over heels for you, you need to look again…”  

He was about to kiss her again, his hand sliding down her side and over her hip, when there was a loud yelp from the woods around them.  And the ‘snipe call’ Lily had taught all of them rang out through the trees.  

“Quick question...do Sirius and Remus know that the snipe isn’t real?”  

“Remus does.  Sirius doesn’t.”  

“That is bloody  _ brilliant _ , is what it is. I love you.”

“I love you too, James.”   


	7. Remus/Sirius; 'Headed for the Future'; for aspiring-trashfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 21 July 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/163253238344/headed-for-the-future).
> 
> Song is 'Headed for the Future' by Neil Diamond; 1986.

_ What are we going to do? _

Remus sighed into Sirius’ neck, inhaling the scent of his skin and relishing this stolen moment.

He could feel the tendrils of fear and worry ebb and flow into his thoughts.  The slow, rolling sickness that swept over him.  Dread.  Despair.  All of those terrible things that he tried not to wallow in.  

Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist, trying to lose himself in the weight of his limbs.  Attempting to just...melt into him.  Become part of him because  _ he _ was a better man than Remus could ever hope to be.  

Better at dealing, better at everything. He could put a positive spin on any situation.  

And Remus?  Remus was an old stick in the mud. Prematurely middle-aged.  A pessimist.  

But he could lose himself in Sirius long enough to become an optimist.  Even if it was only for a little while.  An adhesive bandage over the gaping wound that was his anxiety.  

Today however, even the pull of Sirius’ light wasn’t enough to keep him for long.

“What are we going to do?”  he murmured, his hands clutching around Sirius’ waist.  The words surprised him.  He’d been thinking the phrase over and over again.  An internal chant.  A new mantra.  

“We…” Sirius began.  “We will fight.  We will survive.  And when this is all over...we will live.”  His fingers dragged soothingly up and down Remus’ spine.  

“How?  You’ve been disowned.   _ I _ can’t find work.  James is supporting us both. James and Lily are in danger.  All of us are.   _ He’s _ going to win.”  

“This is war.  This?  That we’re living in right now?  It’s war, Remus.”  

“I know that.”  

“I know you know that, I just…”  Sirius’ hands dropped from his body, falling defeated on either side of his head, flopping softly on the pillow.  “I just don’t know what to tell you, Moony.”  

“I don’t know what I want you to tell me…” Remus admitted.  He was at a loss.  He couldn’t find a single positive thought to hold onto.  It was a spiral.  A spiral of the very worst kind. Not even his favorite person in the entire world could pull him out of it.  He rolled away, taking some of the blanket with him.  

But in true Padfoot fashion, Sirius followed him.  

“Hey…”  His hands reappeared.  One on his waist, the other carding through his hair.  “Hey now...we’ll be okay.”  

Remus exhaled loudly.  He supposed it was a sigh.  Or a scoff.  

“We will.  Because you  _ know _ we’re on the right side of this thing.  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not going to win.  Because we’re on the right side of this.  And we aren’t going down without a fight.  We are going to fix our eyes on a brighter future.  A future without that old sod.”

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle at that.  Only Sirius Black would refer to Voldemort as ‘that old sod’.  As if he were some crotchety old man and not the most powerful dark wizard of all time.  

“Look at me, Moony…” Sirius lowered his head down level with Remus’.  “You asked me what we’re going to do, and I’m going to tell you.”  

Rolling over, Remus propped his head on one hand, giving Sirius his full attention.  “What are we going to do, Sirius?”  He already knew the answer.  Because he’d heard the answer a million times.  It just sound so much better coming from Sirius.  He never tired of hearing it.

“We’re going to fight.  Because this is what we’re good at.   _ You _ were a prefect at Hogwarts.  You are one of the best of our year at charms.  You are stronger than they are.  Because you are Remus Lupin.  You are younger.  You are stronger.  And as for me?  I am a bloody amazing duelist.”  

“And so humble too…” Remus said facetiously.  

Sirius smirked and laid back on the pillow.  “That’s why you love me, isn’t it?”  

Scooting over to press himself flush against his lover, Remus lay his head on his shoulder.  “Amongst other things.”  

“What other things?”  Sirius asked, leaning his head on Remus’ shoulder.  

“What...do you want a list?”  

“Of course, I love talking about me. Especially when it’s good things.”  

Remus chuckled and turned over, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Sirius’ nose.  “You seem like you already know how wonderful you are.”  

“Too right, I do,” Sirius said with a wink.  “I’m handsome, debonair, humorous...I’ve got one  _ hell _ of an arse...but you know that…”  

Remus smiled, because he couldn’t do anything  _ but _ smile when Sirius started in like this.  

“Jump in anytime, Moony.”  

“Looks, style, humor, arse...those are basically the only things I look for in a man…” Remus teased.  Sirius nuzzled his jaw, pressing hot kisses up and down the line of it.   “But I suppose you’re also brave.  Too brave, if you were to ask my true feelings.  You’re loyal.  Too loyal for your own well-being.  And you’re good, Sirius.  You are so... _ fucking _ good.  And that’s why I love you.”  

Sirius’ kisses turned more heated by the second, pecks turned into slow, open-mouthed affairs.  Teeth grazing sensitive skin as Remus’ eyes fluttered shut from the sensation.  

“Now, I suppose, Padfoot.  The  _ real _ question...is why do you love me?”   

Sirius stopped kissing him long enough to push up to look into his eyes.  “Why do I love you? How can I not?”

“Lots of people don’t.  Lots of people really, really, adamantly  _ don’t _ .”

“And it’s their loss.  Because I get you all to myself.  You, beautiful, wonderful, loving, smart and did I say beautiful? Because you’re bloody gorgeous, Remus.”

He felt the blush creeping into his cheeks, so he leaned over to kiss Sirius before he could comment on making him blush.  Or possibly requesting to add ‘cunning linguist’ to his repertoire of bankable traits.  

And then he’d make some crude joke about how he was actually a fellatist.  

And  _ then _ he’d proceed to prove his skills as a fellatist.  

And by Merlin’s beard, why was Remus trying to stop him from this?  

He pulled back, ending the kiss and panting slightly as he gazed into Sirius’ eyes.  

Sirius smirked.  “I made you blush.  I suppose I should probably add cunning linguist to that list, eh, Moony?”     


	8. Hermione/Oliver; Heaven; for thestarfishdancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 15 August 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/164216450294/heaven).
> 
> Song is 'Heaven'- Bryan Adams - 1984.

The owl tapped impatiently on the glass of her office window.  

Hermione rose to let it in.  It was a tawny.  And quite young.  She knew exactly what the return address on the letter would say.  

A quick glance at the calendar on her desk told her that it was indeed about that time.  The Quidditch season had just ended.  And every year for the past six, she’d gotten a letter of similar contents.  

She broke the seal, and unfolded the parchment to Oliver Wood’s surprisingly neat script.  

> _ Hello Hermione.   _
> 
> _ I know we usually meet each other for dinner at the Cauldron, but I thought this year it might be nice to host you in my home.  I hope this letter reaches you well.  Please respond at your earliest convenience.  _
> 
> _ -O. Wood _

Her eyebrows rose.  Dinner in his home?  That was rather...intimate.  Especially for a couple of old friends who met up once a year.  

She tried not to let her heart read something her brain couldn’t find evidence for.  

It was difficult, given her longstanding fondness for Oliver.  Ginny often accused her of fancying him.  

But fancying was for teenagers, wasn’t it?  She’d ‘fancied’ Ron and look where it got her:  Divorced at twenty-two and a studio flat in Muggle London that she shared with Crookshanks. She was twenty-seven and she lived with her cat.    

So no.  She’d never admit to ‘fancying’ Oliver Wood.  Or anything of the sort.  

Of course, her refusal to admit simply cemented the knowledge in Ginny’s eyes.  Considering all the sly looks she gave Harry whenever Hermione mentioned Oliver.  

And it wasn’t that she mentioned him all that often.  She simply brought him up if the topic called for it.  And with Ginny playing Quidditch professionally as well, the topic came up more often than not.  

This was all Ginny’s fault to begin with.  She was the one who had invited Oliver to the Weasley’s Christmas celebration.  If it hadn’t been for that, Hermione would have never started up a correspondence with him.  

Where was she?  

Oh yes.  Fondness.  She had a fondness for Oliver.  Nothing more.  

She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and dipped her quill in the inkwell to write out a quick response.  

> _ Oliver,   _
> 
> _ I’ve been well, and I hope to hear something similar from you.  Dinner at your home sounds lovely.  When shall we plan it?  My next few weeks are fairly full up, I do have Thursday free this week, however.   _
> 
> _ Hermione  _

She fed the owl and attached the letter to its leg, giving it a swift pat on the head before opening the window and allowing it free again.  

Summoning a stack of paperwork she’d been sent by the Ministry, she began to slog through the worst part of her job.  And she normally liked paperwork.  

She received her response from Oliver before she left for the day.  

> _ H,  _
> 
> _ Thursday sounds perfect.  I’ll see you at seven. _
> 
> _ -O _

She scribbled off a quick acceptance note at the bottom of his, sending it back with the owl and leaving for the day, a smile on her face as the butterflies in her stomach all took flight at once.  

She saw a visit with Ginny in her near future.  

* * *

 

“You’re KIDDING.  He’s having you over for dinner at his place?”  Ginny was practically giddy.  “Did you hear that, Harry?” she reached over to nudge his elbow.  

He smirked and shook his head.  “It’s about time…”  

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Really, Harry?  Not you too…”  

“It’s been six years, ‘Mione...he’s been pining after you for six whole years,”  Ginny insisted.  

“Who says he’s been pining?  Did you ask him?”  She laughed.  “No, you have not.”  Ginny and Harry exchanged a look which Hermione chose to ignore.  “ _ No, _ you have  _ not _ ,” she repeated.

“Well, first things first...what are you going to wear?”  Ginny asked.  “And please don’t say you’re wearing whatever you wear to work…”  

Hermione pressed her lips together. “Step all over what I was going to say, why don’t you?”  

“Oh Hermione, no!”  

* * *

 

She sighed as she straightened her dress for what felt like the fiftieth time.  It was blue.  Ginny insisted that Hermione looked amazing in blue.  

She’d drawn the line at taming her hair, however.  Ginny had been satisfied by her promise to braid it.  And she had to admit...she looked rather lovely with it like this.  

It was nearly seven so she started to make her way to her fireplace.  Her stomach was in knots.  She wasn’t exactly sure the reason, but she wanted to say it was Ginny’s fault.  With all her ‘pining’ talk.  Oliver Wood wasn’t pining.  

She had to chuckle at the pun, and that relaxed her sufficiently.

She disliked traveling by floo, but there was nothing for it.  Oliver didn’t live in London, and it would take hours to get to his home the muggle way.    

Moments later, she stumbled out of Oliver’s fireplace and into his living room.  She dusted off her dress and hair. 

“Hermione?  Is that you?”  

She patted her legs one last time before answering.  “Yes, it’s me?”  

He entered the room on crutches, and she suddenly realized his reason for wanting her to come to his home.  She felt foolish, and quickly started trying to think up a reason why she was dressed like she was.  And it was suddenly apparent just how much she’d been looking forward to this evening.  

Maybe there was something more to her feelings for Oliver.  More than she’d been admitting at any rate.  

“You look...beautiful, Granger.”  He smiled.  

She couldn’t help but return the expression.  “You look…” she trailed off, unsure what to say.  He looked handsome.  Carefree despite the crutches.  “I…” she clutched her purse to the front of her.  “I feel I may have misinterpreted why you asked me here.”   

“Oh?”  He moved towards her.  “Why do ya think I asked ya here?”  

Her mouth opened and closed.  “I...I let someone else’s opinion sway my decisions...and I apologize.  I think…”  She took a step back towards the fireplace.  “Perhaps I should just go home...we could do this another night.  I’ll move my schedule around...or something?”  

“Hermione.  Wait…” The crutches creaked as he moved towards her.  “I don’t think you’ve misinterpreted anything...I’m just...shit at this sort of thing…”

Her heart was beating very loudly.  “Me too,” she admitted.  

“Might be why it’s taken us six years to get it right, eh?”  

“Possibly.”  

He licked his lips and grinned.  “I’m...I’m afraid I’m as close as I can get without stepping on you…” 

“Oh right...of course…”  Hermione’s feet started moving. And she proceeded to do something she hadn’t realized she wanted to do up until this exact moment.  She did something completely unlike her.  

And it was absolutely lovely.

She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as her lips met his.  He tasted of tea and cinnamon.  A hint of something herbal.  Basil or thyme, perhaps?  Honestly, she didn’t care exactly what he tasted like, it was pleasant.  

Kissing Oliver was...very pleasant.  

Extraordinarily pleasant.  

Heavenly.   


	9. Hermione/Remus/Sirius; Under Pressure- Queen and David Bowie; for phoenix-173

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 22 August 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/164493719619/under-pressure).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is 'Under Pressure'- Queen and David Bowie - 1982.

Hermione’s head drooped against the bus window. She knew she couldn’t keep this up.  It was madness.  

_ And _ it was rampant misuse of a time turner.  She’d picked it up on a curse-breaking run. Snuck it into her pocket.  One of hundreds her department had found.  It wouldn’t be missed.  But if the Ministry ever found out…

They wouldn’t.  They couldn’t.  What she was doing was too important. She couldn’t help but think that her fellows needed her.  Their past selves, at any rate.  

Past-Remus was all alone, waiting for nothing, with nothing to look forward to, struggling with depression.  

Past-Sirius existed a few years later than Remus’ timeline.  And he was on the run.  Looking for Harry.  In his dog form most of the time.   

There was no danger of running into her past-self.  So there was no danger of being found out while time-travelling. 

She wondered when she’d get a visit from their current selves.  When they’d put it together and traipse together into her office to tell her off.  Or worse… relay their disappointment.  It was a matter of time, funnily enough.  They were both very clever.  Remus especially.  And she existed in three timelines now.  It was only a matter of time before she made a mistake.  If she hadn’t already.

But she couldn’t really be bothered with those thoughts.  Not when there was so much pressure to do the right thing.  

Anyone who thought she could be happy as a Ravenclaw had obviously not stuck around to see the adult she’d become.  A do-gooder with no respect for the rules.  Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor.  No doubt about it.  

She pulled the cord to stop the bus, knowing that she’d still have to walk a ways to get to the exact place she said she’d meet Remus.  Twenty years before.  

Her head was pounding.  A side effect of all the time-hopping.  

It was becoming an addiction.  She was smart enough to know that.  But she was also unable to stop.  Hence the compulsory feeling of her actions.  It gave her power.  Knowing that she could change the past.  Right wrongs.  Save lives.  

It was true.  The two of them were alive because of her meddling.  A few day’s worth of charm work ensured that Sirius merely fell through a wormhole into another part of the Ministry during that fateful night in her fifth year at Hogwarts.  A simple cushioning charm and a few well-timed Proteus kept Remus from succumbing to a Death Eater’s spell at the Battle of Hogwarts.     

And now? She was really just… well… She was stalling.  Stalling for time.  Bringing food and supplies to both of these men who had somehow stolen her heart throughout her travels. Visiting them in the past because she was too much of a coward to visit them in the present.  Bit of a conundrum for a Gryffindor, she realized.  Cowardice. 

What had started as a personal quest to right two horrendous wrongs had turned into a compulsion.  An addiction she couldn’t fight.

She stood and walked to the front of the bus, dropping a few coins as a tip into the tip box and stepping off onto the darkened street.  She didn’t know why she never worried for her own safety in these situations.  Another dastardly Gryffindor trait, she’d wager.  

Ron and Harry certainly seemed to suffer from the same affliction.  

She heard footsteps behind her.  Which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.  She  _ was _ in London, after all.  Muggles and Magical folks alike frequented this area.  

Hermione simply sped up a little, deciding that arriving at her destination sooner was better than later.  

When the footsteps behind her sped up as well, she felt a small bloom of panic in her chest.  Right around where her heart was.  Beating erratically and spreading through her blood like a virus.  

She tried to steady her breathing, tried not to run.  Running was a sign of weakness.  Running would alert her follower that she was starting to get scared.  And fear was something she hated showing.  

She gulped back her nerves and steadied her pace.  

And that’s when one of them spoke. One single word. And her fear turned into something more.  Something worse.  Mania. 

“Hermione.”

She froze, stopping still in her tracks for just a moment before resuming.  This time at a brisk sprint.  She recognized the voice.  And if she stopped, she’d never arrive at her destination.  Remus would just be waiting for her.  And she’d never show up.  

Never mind that  _ Remus _ was the owner of one of the pairs of feet in rapid pursuit of her.  And the voice calling her name.  

Never mind that Sirius Black was likely the owner of the other pair.  

If she stopped, she’d never be able to go back again.  If she let on that she knew that they’d come around, that they’d put the clues together enough to follow her here, she’d never be able to travel again.  

And that was the thing about compulsory activities, she supposed.  One continued on with them until forcibly stopped, either by yourself or by someone else.  

The growl that rumbled behind her made her sprint turn into a dash.  She just had to find the now abandoned curiosity shop.  It was empty.  She’d scoped out the place in the days preceding.  If she could get inside, she could barricade herself until she used the time turner.  

And then?  

She’d figure it out later.  She  _ had  _ been the brightest witch of her year, after all.  

Even at her fastest, she was no match for the big black dog that skidded to a halt in front of her.  

Or the pair of strong arms that wound around her waist, pinning hers to her sides as she toppled onto her knees.  

The dog morphed back into man.  Sirius was standing before her, with Remus’ arms holding her tightly.  

After a quick look around, Sirius reached down to grab her shoulder.  And they apparated with a snap.  

She arrived on the floor of the main salon of Grimmauld Place.  The moon was a mere crescent, shining in through a window.  

Sirius disarmed her before Remus let her go.  And she reached automatically for the time-turner around her neck.  

Remus snapped the chain before she could use it, as ill-thought out a plan as it was.  She had no wand, what in Merlin’s name could she do with no wand apparating back through the years in this salon?  The best-case scenario involved running into her past self on Order of the Phoenix business, or getting herself murdered by a very surprised Pureblood family at the worst.  

Tears began to flow immediately and she hid her face in her hands.  “I’m… I’m so sorry…” she sobbed.  

Sirius was gripping her shoulders in a split second.  “Why are you sorry, love? Other than completely fucking with the timelines, all you’ve done is save our lives.  Repeatedly.”  

“You’re… you’re not disappointed in me?”  

“No!” he exclaimed, but changed his answer after a stern look from Remus.  “Well.  We’re disappointed that you broke so many rules to do it.”  

“And endangered yourself,” Remus interjected.  “Do you know what long term time travel can do to someone? Even someone as bright as you are, Hermione.  You’ve constantly put yourself in harm’s way.  And what’s worse, you never  _ ever _ told us it was you.   _ Or _ asked us once for help.”  

“You’ve helped us enough, dear girl.  Let us return the favor.”  Sirius’ arms slid around her quaking form and tears began to fall fresh.  She was getting his jumper all wet, but it didn’t look like he could be bothered about that.  

Remus’ arms went around her as well, and it was awkward, being held by the both of them.  But at the same time, it was such a relief.  

“No more of this, Hermione,” Remus whispered.  “Promise me.  And if you’ve really grown to care about us like I think you have, please try to keep it.”  

“I promise,” she replied.  “I promise.”  

 


	10. *George/Hermione; 'Listen to Your Heart' by Roxette; for webuiltthiscityonescargot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 26 August 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/164656920884/listen-to-your-heart).
> 
> Song is 'Listen to Your Heart' by Roxette - 1988

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the asterisk, this is a smutty one. <3

The air left her lungs when he crossed the floor to reach her.  The kiss was the most desperate, the most intense, the most passionate thing to ever happen to her.  

And that was including all of her awkward, open-mouthed, teenage endeavors.  

George smelled like the joke shop.  Like a mixture of things, a blend that was truly him and no one else.  He smelled like hope and promise.  Like a future that didn’t involve living solely in the past. But mostly, he smelled like the cedar wood his desk was made from. 

Theirs wasn’t  a new beginning, but a different ending.  An ending Hermione desperately wanted.  

His lips moved over hers expertly.  In a manner that had to be practiced, not a talent one was born with.  And that thought alone was enough to make her feel self-conscious.  George had kissed many women.  He’d likely done  _ more _ with many women.  

And Hermione was coming in with experience from only two.  One, a long ago young girl’s infatuation, and the other too, was a young girl’s infatuation that had bloated beyond what it should have been.  

Viktor and Ron.  Ron and Viktor.  The only two men in her romantic repertoire.  

Viktor had only lasted a few months or so.  They were a flash in the pan.  Burning hot for a short time before they fizzled.  As such things often do.  

Ron was more of a slower burn.  They’d lasted years. Up until a few months prior when they both realized that a slow burn without a spark to begin with wasn’t much to warm your hands on.  

But  _ George _ .  

George was something else entirely.  He had one of those smiles that could simultaneously coax a like one from her, as well as something else deep inside her.  There was no danger of freezing with him.  The burn was slow, but the fire sometimes roared out of control, sparks and cinders spitting out every which way.  

That’s how she felt when he held her.  Like she was out of control.  Like she was fighting for it.  Even though his arms felt strong enough to carry her, still Hermione fought it.  

She’d never had someone fight back for her before. 

And she’d never realized how much she wanted it until George did.  

He was fighting for her, for them.  With every calculated movement.  With every smile, every casual brush of fingers, every kiss.  

She grunted as her arse hit the edge of his desk, parchement and various objects flew from the surface before he deposited her safetly on top. The jarring motion bringing her out of her reverie and back to the present.  His fingers wandered up her thighs, rucking up her skirt until he found her knickers.  

George’s breath grew heavy in her ear.  “Hermione?” he murmured, finger tips toying with the scalloped trim at her thighs. 

No matter where he wanted to go, he always asked her first.  Always checked in.  He had a great deal more restraint than she was expecting.  But perhaps that was because he was older.  She wasn’t fumbling through another first time with a seventeen year old.    

She always stopped him. And he never said a word, only moved back to a place they’d both been before.

They hadn’t gone further than this.  Because she couldn’t wrap her mind around it.  

It  _ wasn’t _ Ron.  She wasn’t worried about Ron anymore.  He’d walked in on them once a while ago.  George had leapt back from her, running his hand through his hair and trying to play it off as something else even though her lipstick was smeared on his mouth.  

Ron had chuckled, winked at Hermione and left the way he’d come.  And ever since, she and George had been a quasi-item.  

At least with their close friends and family.  

There was this one last hurdle.  And she hated thinking of it that way, but there was always so much weight placed on sex.  And while George wasn’t pressuring her in the slightest, she still knew he felt it too.  There was a niggling little thought that they had put on pause countless times. 

And it wasn’t that she didn’t want it.  Because Merlin knew she did.  She ached for it sometimes, relieving that ache herself in a furtive moment alone before she went to sleep at night.  

Likewise she knew  _ he _ wanted it.  She’d felt the evidence of it plenty of times.  Right now, for one, pressing against her thigh as his fingers traced along her hip, waiting for her answer.    

“George…” she reached for his hand, pressing it close to her skin before tugging and dragging it lower.  

“We don’t have to do this here, ‘Mione…” he murmured.  “I know getting shagged on a desk likely isn’t how you want this to happen for us…”  

She kissed him in response.  Because honestly, she only wanted this  _ to happen _ .  And not in a ‘let’s get it over and done with’ kind of way.  She wanted to not worry about the how or the where.  She only wanted to worry about him and her. 

And bugger it all, she was ready for  _ him _ .  

She reached for his trousers, tugging at the button and the zip before she could lose her nerve.  “Is the door locked?”  

“It’s so very locked you could keep your valuables in here instead of Gringotts…” he chuckled, the laugh turning into a sigh as she reached into his pants.  

“Hmm… it appears I  _ do _ have my valuables in here…” she teased.  

“I can’t decide if that’s a ‘family jewels’ joke or something far more romantic…” he mused, dipping his head down to kiss along her throat.  His fingers hooked her knickers and tugged them down her legs. 

“A little of both,” she confessed.  “And George?”  

His fingers were tracing her folds, making her legs shake as she widened them a little more.  “Hmm?”  

“It’s… uh… been a while so… “  

“So shag your socks off, got it…”  He kissed her lips firmly.  

“George…”  

“I know, love… I’ve always got my kid gloves on.”  His hand snuck around her hip to cup her arse as he shifted her back slightly.  “At least for now…” He gave her a little swat and winked.  “I assume you’ll tell me when I can take them off.”  

She nodded.  “Of course I will.”  

His tongue swept along his bottom lip, wetting it before he leaned in to kiss her.  “You’re sure?  About this, right now?”  

“I’m sure.  We’ve waited long enough.  This is perfect.”  

“I dunno about perfect, but I’ll do my best.”  He nibbled along her throat, tugging open the buttons of her blouse as she murmured a quick contraception charm.  He wrapped one arm around her waist and hoisted her thigh higher around his.  “Tell me when.”  

Her mouth fell open as he entered her.  He pressed in smoothly, giving her time to adjust to him.  His hips met hers and he gasped.  

“When,” she whispered, grinning languidly up at him when he caught her gaze.  

“Alright, love?”  

“More than,” she assured him, her hands tightening on his shoulders as he began to move.  


	11. Draco/Ginny; Don't You (Forget About Me) - Simple Minds; for littleplebe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 30 August 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/164808575434/dont-you-forget-about-me).
> 
> Song is - 'Don't You (Forget About Me) - Simple Minds - 1985.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went with detention for this one. Had to. :P 
> 
> I mean. Breakfast Club and all? <3

Ginny heard Draco’s loud harrumph before she even saw him.  

Her eyes wanted to roll, but given her past experience with Malfoy, she knew she’d better rest the muscles.  Save the rolling for the truly ridiculous.  

She’d been late one too many times to Professor Flitwick’s class and had been assigned detention.  Apparently, Draco had suffered from the same punctuality problem and had  _ also _ been assigned detention.  

There was a stack of parchment on the table in the front.  Two quills.  Ink for both.  

Their professor was waiting up near the blackboard. A simple assignment written upon it.  

_ Tell me what you have learned. _

It was simple, she supposed, only in its sentence structure.  It was, in and of itself, a rather loaded request.  

Her chair scraped as she pulled it out, politely leaving one chair between Draco and herself.  She didn’t really want to intrude on his personal space and she didn’t really want him intruding on hers.  

He’d never been guilty of  _ doing _ such things before.  But without any other people in this room -- not counting the Professor-- she was the only warm body of whom Draco could lob his insults towards.  

Not that she wasn’t capable of  _ handling _ such things.  Her tongue was sharp.  She spent most of her time sharpening it for just such an occasion.  But a master fighter never hopes to have to brandish her weapon.  

Draco’s head snapped towards her, his grey eyes narrowing as he took her in.  “Wonderful.  Not only do I have to complete this rubbish assignment, but I have to do it in close proximity to a  _ Weasley _ .”

“Better than being stuck by yourself, I’d wager.  I know  _ I’m _ less than chuffed to be in the same room as you.”

His loud grumbling was cut short by the professor, who after looking at the two of time, instructed them to move closer.  “I’m not about to stay here watching you for the whole of the afternoon. You’ll sit in those chairs, quill in hand, until these assignments are finished. You may work together. Place them upon my desk when you are finished. Consider your detention served once you do.”  

Draco didn’t budge, so Ginny was the one to scoot over into the chair beside his.

“What exactly are you looking for in the way of answers, Professor Flitwick?”  Ginny asked.  She was bright enough, but she was no Hermione Granger, there had to be a trick to this, other than just vomiting facts up onto the parchment.  

His response was to point at the board.  He climbed the stairs to his chambers, the door closing behind him.  

“How in Merlin’s name are we supposed to work together?” she wondered aloud.  “We’re in different years.”  

Unless it wasn’t about classwork.

Draco’s reply was simply a huff of air.  A rather loud exhale.  But she thought she detected a bit of agreement.  

“It’s not about what we’ve learned in class,” he finally said, voicing the very thing Ginny had been thinking.  “It’s about what we’ve learned… about… being late, I suppose?”  

He picked up a quill and pulled a piece of parchment towards him.  He scribbled a sentence at the top, presumably  _ ‘I’ve learned not to be late.’ _

He stood, or attempted to stand, the chair had affixed itself to his backside and he very quickly sat back down with a grunt.  “Bugger it all.  He’s charmed the chairs.”  

“Quills too…” Ginny waved her open palm around, the quill stuck fast to her skin.  

“How wonderful.  We’re stuck here until we can figure out a bloody Charms’ Professor’s riddle.”  Draco attempted to throw down his quill and didn’t succeed in doing anything other than looking silly and making Ginny laugh.  “You think this is funny, do you?”  

“A little.  It seems a waste of time to think it anything but funny.”  

He groaned, leaning back in his chair.  “Why couldn’t it have been Granger?”  

“Because Hermione would never be late for class and you know it.”  

He chuckled and shook his head.  “When you’re right, you’re right.”  

“And I might not be Hermione Granger, but I’m certainly not stupid.”  

“That’s…” he began, but trailed off.  

“That’s not what you meant?  Really?”  Ginny laughed dryly.  “Don’t delude yourself into thinking you know me, Malfoy.  Because I believe in our acquaintanceship, you’ve spent bugger-all time in my presence.”  

“Don’t perceive to know  _ me _ , Weasley,” was his weak retort.  

“Don’t worry, I don’t.”  

He grumbled something under his breath and scratched his quill against a new sheet of parchment.  

She caught sight of what he’d written and snorted a laugh.  “I, Draco Malfoy, have learned that the She-Weasel is a barmy bat.”  Ginny quickly scribbled on her own parchment, reading aloud as she did. “ _ I’ve _ learned that Malfoy is the most priggish prig to have ever prigged.”  

“You didn’t learn that, you already knew it,” Draco accused.  “At least adhere to the assignment, Weasley.”  

“And you _didn’t_ already know I was a barmy bat?  I’m starting to doubt your purported intelligence, Ferret.” 

“Weasel,” he sneered.  

“I thought I was a bat.”  

He exhaled loudly and tapped his quill on the paper.  “What does he want from us? Do you think it’s a timed spell?  Perhaps we need to write for a certain amount of time before the charm releases us?”  

She shook her head.  “No, it’s likely nothing of that sort. I’m sure it’s a rather simple answer, and it pertains to the two of us.  So, why are we here?”  

“Because we were late.”  

“ _ Because _ we were late… right.  So what have we learned about being late?”

“Not to be.”  

“Talking to you is an utter waste of time.”  

“This whole detention is an utter waste of time,” Draco fumed, again attempting to throw his quill and being unable to.  “For me, for you...for the professor! For everyone involved.”  

Ginny quickly grabbed a new piece of parchment.  “The whole detention is a waste of time…” she wrote.  “For both of us, and for the professor.  Likewise, our being late disrupted class and wasted the time of everyone involved.”  

The quill fell from her hand and Draco quickly copied down the words onto his parchment, dropping the quill from his hand and rising from the chair.  

They both dropped their parchments on the desk and turned to leave.  

Draco hung back to allow her to leave first, a courtesy that didn’t go unnoticed by Ginny.  

“Thank you,” she mumbled.  

“Y’welcome…” Draco replied, casting his eyes down to the stone floor as they walked.  “So, do you have… plans?”  

She laughed.  “Thought I was going to be in detention all day, so no.”  

“Can we go get lunch or something?”  

“I dunno… can we?”  

He nodded once.  “I think we can. I mean, if you can stomach eating with a ferret.”

“Sure.  If a ferret can eat with either a barmy bat or a weasel, I suppose anything’s possible.”     


	12. *Harry/Pansy, 'Need You Tonight' by INXS; for pegasusdragontiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 4 September 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/164996087124/need-you-tonight).
> 
> Song is 'Need You Tonight' by INXS - 1987.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the asterisk. Smut ahead.

“You gonna sleep here again, Potter?”  Pansy was leaning against the doorframe leading to his office, a bottle of Firewhiskey practically dangling from her fingers.  “That can’t be good for your back.”  

Harry shot a tired look in her direction, apparently unable to stop the visceral response he had to the sight of her.  “What business is it of yours, Parkinson?”  

She shrugged. “It’s not really.  But I’ve never cared what was or wasn’t my business.  That’s why I ended up as an Auror.  You know something about that, don’t you?”  A smirk graced her burgundy stained lips.  

“About what?  Becoming an Auror or being unable to mind my own business?”  

She quirked her eyebrow in response and sauntered into his office, closing the door behind her.  “Are you sleeping here?” she repeated.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.  It read nearly four a.m.  “Won’t be sleeping, but I’ll be here.”  

She hummed softly and crossed the room to sit in the chair in front of his desk.  “Glad to hear it.”  

“Why’s that?  Do you require assistance?”  His words were formal, but his tone was decidedly _not_. Neither were his eyes.  

Hot green pools of desire.  

Pansy ran her tongue over her teeth and slowly made her way to his desk.  “In a way…  I suppose you could call it that.”  

“I do have to warn you, Panse.  I might not be sleeping, but I _am_ exhausted.”  

“I don’t need anything like _that_ , Potter.  Nothing you’ll have to take your pants off for.  Nothing you’ll even need to get out of that chair for.”  

He arched an eyebrow, intrigued.  “Really now?”  

She set the bottle of Firewhiskey on the end of his desk and hopped up on the surface, sliding over to sit directly in front of him.  

Conjuring two glasses, she poured each of them a drink.  “Really now.”  

He downed his in one gulp, while she merely sipped at hers.  He sat back in his chair expectantly, almost looking as if he assumed that she was going  to hop into his lap or something.  Which, Pansy had to admit, _did_ sound fun.  

But not tonight.  

She was tired too.  

And Potter?  

He looked hungry.  

If she was any kind of a girlfriend, she’d have brought him dinner.  Or she’d conjure something up for him.  

But she wasn’t his girlfriend.  

They simply worked together.  

And fucked on occasion.  

If he was any kind of boyfriend, he’d come back to her place once in a while. Or invite her back to his.  

So it was fairly agreed upon between the two of them that they weren’t any kind of boyfriend or girlfriend to each other.  This was barely a relationship.  

Pansy set her glass down on the table and spread her legs apart.

It was a good thing she wasn't wearing any knickers.

She felt her skirt ride up and the cool air hit her skin.  

Harry’s eyes widened.  And then darkened.  

And then he sat up straight in his chair, setting his empty glass beside hers and reaching for the buttons on his cuffs.  

Painstakingly, he rolled up the sleeves before bracing his hands on her knees, pushing her legs that much farther apart as he ducked his head between them.  

Her breath hissed out into the quiet office in anticipation, but nothing happened.  He didn’t touch her, simply hovered close without doing a damn thing.  

His breath was warm, hitting her in puffs as he waited.  Waited for what, she didn’t know.  She was practically aching for him by now.  

“Harry…” she whined, her hand sliding through his messy black hair.  “Please.”  

He smirked up at her, his tongue sweeping out to tease her flesh.  “Please what?”  

A warm blanket of arousal covered her.  Pansy’s thighs shook as she spoke, as clearly and plainly as possible.  

“Please, use that wicked mouth on my cunt before I make a mess on your desk, _Potter_.”  

What left his lips could only be called a moan as he traced her folds with the tip of his tongue, right before latching on exactly where she wanted him.  

His lips made a small sucking sound as he sealed them around her clit, making her cry out with pleasure, her thighs shaking more as he worked her rapidly towards an intense release.  

Just as quickly as he worked her up, he backed down, however.  The tip of his tongue teased her opening, keeping her just _there_ … making her tingle with want and desire.  

She resisted the urge to wrap her thighs around his head, to clamp them down until he brought her where she needed to be.  Instead, Pansy reached up to palm her breast through her top.  To pull slightly at her stiff nipple.  

He brought his tongue back to her clit in smooth broad licks.  Every pass over the sensitive bundle of nerves had her gasping for breath.  She wasn’t going to last much longer if he kept that up.  

But, she supposed, it _was_ very late.  Perhaps bringing her off quickly would be the best thing here.

When he sat back in the chair again, tugging her skirt back down over her legs, she almost throttled him.  

“Come on darling. It’s late.  I should take you home.”  

“Piss off, Potter.  Knew you were a lot of things.  A goddamn _tease_ wasn’t one of them.”  

He smirked.  “A little _waiting_ every now and then never hurt anyone, Pansy.”  

“You’re taking me home?” she groused.  “How long am I supposed to wait?  I’m not a patient witch.  I can just as soon take care of it myself.”  

“I’m taking you to _my_ home, where I intend to ravish you in every single room.  So,  you’ll only have to wait as long as it takes for us to apparate there.”  

He stood, holding out his hand and helping her down off his desk.  

“You’re taking me to _your_ home?”

He smiled.  “I am.  Now, it’s messy.  And it’s small.  But, hopefully not too small for what I intend to do.”  

His previous promise to ravish her in every room had her tingling all over again.  

“You’re still a tease,” she insisted.

He winked.  “Of course I am.  I’m a right arsehole.”

“But I’m with you, so what does that make me?”  

“I don’t really care, Parkinson.  I just need you tonight.”  

“It’s actually _morning_ , you know.”  


	13. Harry/Luna; 'Eye of the Tiger' - Survivor; for stereden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 14 September 2017 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/165338271809/eye-of-the-tiger).
> 
> Song is 'Eye of the Tiger' - Survivor - 1982.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post Battle of Hogwarts, definitely not epilogue compliant, mentions of character death.

It was hours before Harry could return to Luna after the final battle.  

Everyone was still in the Hogwarts dining hall.  It was an eerie place.  Of simultaneous celebration and tears.  Of misery and jubilance.

And Harry for one, had definitely had enough of both for an entire lifetime.  

He fell-- more than sat -- down beside her on a cot.  

“Your father’s been released from Azkaban?’ he asked.  It wasn’t what he really wanted to say, but propriety insisted that he ask.  And he was certain it was something that had plagued her for the weeks she’d been at Shell Cottage.  

“He has.  I’ll be able to see him tomorrow,” she answered.  She was strewn across the conjured cot in such a way that Harry might have thought she was comfortable here. If not for where they were.

“You’re not hurt?” Harry asked again.  He’d asked multiple times.  

“I’m a little scratched up, but I’m alive.”  She turned to face him.  “Harry, are  _ you _ hurt?”  

Not physically, he wasn’t.  Save for a few scratches, more bruises than he could count.  Physically he felt fine.  

There was a gnawing pain deep inside that refused to stop.  He’d call it his heart, but it wasn’t that either.  His heart was an organ.  Once that pumped blood through his veins.  It wasn’t hurt.  It wasn’t even scarred.  

The scar that mattered to everyone hadn’t so much as twinged since Voldemort had drawn his last.  It felt as empty as the rest of him.

It was something deeper than that.  His very soul had been touched by evil and there wasn’t an elixir or potion that could delve that deep and heal what ailed him.  

He meant to shrug off her question.  She had enough to deal with without having to take on his mess as well.  

But all that came out was a choked sound.  A whimper.  The realization that he’d lost friends today.  Friends who would all be alive if it weren’t for him and his bloody scar.  If it weren’t for him and his bloody name.  

And then he was falling again.  Falling for the second time that day, and this time, instead of hitting the cold ground, he was enveloped by warmth.  

By her fingers raking through his hair.  

By his name on her lips.  Repeated over and over.  He opened his eyes to gaze up into her face and he muttered the only thing that made any sense.  The only word that held any meaning for him.  

“Luna…” 

She shushed him, her fingers dragging tracks through his filthy hair and her words a cooling balm on the ache inside.  He couldn’t make out what they were, but the sound of her voice was all he needed.  

“Luna, I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry for it all…”  

Again she shushed him.  “Now is not the time for this, Harry.”  

“Then when? When can I show you how sorry I am for dragging everyone into this?  For Lupin and Tonks?  For Fred?  For…”  He choked again.  “For Dobby?” His breath came out in a shuddering gasp.  “Lupin and Tonks… they have a baby, Luna.”  

“You don’t owe anyone an apology, Harry.  We all knew what we were getting into. My father included. Not a one of us were with you under duress. We all wanted to be here.  There was nowhere else I would rather be on this day than where I was.  Where I am.”  Her hand stilled in his hair and she ran her thumb over the scar on his forehead before smoothing his hair down to cover it.  “I should hope you would trust me to never place myself in a location where I didn’t want to be.”  

“I do.  I trust you, Luna.” The words carried far more weight than they appeared to.  Even though there were still three more unspoken hanging in the air around their heads.  

Harry imagined that they had long, fluttery wings that they used to float just above their heads.  That if he looked up quickly enough, he could catch them.  If not all, then just one.  Just to see tangible proof of their existence.

But in every single instance that they’d been hovering just there, just out of reach, he hadn’t wanted to tear his eyes away from the one they were intended for.  

A bit of a vicious cycle, he supposed.  

“Luna, I…” he trailed off before grabbing his courage by the throat as he often tended to do.  “Luna, I  _ love _ you.”

She smiled, gazing off around the room.  “I know you do, Harry.”  

“No… no…” he struggled to a seated position, his head swimming as he reached for her hands.  “No, not like that.  I love you.  I always have done, I think.  But I always sort of… put it off.  It was never the time.  There was never time to tell you.  I…” he trailed off for a few seconds.  “I don’t care if this isn’t the time, I’m  _ making _ it the time.”  

Her eyes met his, her heat tilted as she ran her fingertips down the line of his jaw.  “Harry.  I  _ know _ . You needn’t have been so dramatic in telling me.  I know.  And I love you too.”     

“You...you do? You do.  Well…” He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers and revelling in the feeling of a love actualized.  A love reciprocated.  Even if it was just for a few moments, he allowed himself the happiness that young love is due.  

Luna sighed heavily and squeezed his hand.  She leaned forward, her fingertips still grazing his skin as she pressed her lips to his.  A short kiss.  A brief peck of her lips on his.  A simple gesture that held promise and potential.  And everything  _ but _ chaste feelings.  “But, I’m afraid that no matter how much we try to make this the time?  It isn’t, Harry.”  

He swallowed the lump in his throat.  The lump that contained all the pain and aches he’d been feeling.  Swallowed it back down into the pit of his gut.  “I know, Luna.  I know.”  

“It will be.  Soon.  But it isn’t now.”  

“I know.”  


	14. *Draco/Hermione; 'Lovesong' - The Cure; for sleepygrimm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is 'Lovesong' by The Cure; 1989.

The sweat was cooling on their skin as he turned towards her, wrapping his arms around her bare waist and nosing through her hair to plant a soft kiss on her temple.  Draco felt a flood of warmth flow through his body as her breathing grew slower.  Deeper.  Almost lulling him to sleep right along with her.  

Hermione curved her spine a bit more, pressing her backside against him, slotting his softening member in place as she got more comfortable.  “Love you, Draco,” she murmured, her lips pouting slightly as she fell asleep.  

Draco’s heart nearly stopped beating as he turned those words over and over in his mind.  

The fog of sleep that had been teasing in the corners of his brain lifted rather suddenly.  She loved him?  

He supposed it was something he should have seen coming.  They’d been spending an awful lot of time together.  Except it wasn’t awful in the slightest.  It was very nearly charming.

It was lovely.  

It was passion.  

It was casting an umbrella charm and ducking under it to kiss her in the rain.  It was shagging her against the wall in his entryway with his trousers around his ankles because if he couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom, he certainly couldn’t wait to undress.  It was ducking under the hem of her gown on the way to the opera because he liked the way she sounded when she was coming.  It was raw and real and fun and…  

And now she loved him?  Why on earth for?

His hand stopped moving.  It had been dragging slow trails up and down her thigh.  His fingers gliding over her smooth skin without a hitch because if there was a softer place than Hermione’s thighs, he didn’t know where it was.  

It  _ had _ just been shagging at first.  There had been no thoughts of how silky her thighs were at the beginning.  It had just been sex.  Because she drove him batty.  And he drove  _ her _ batty.

And somehow, against his better judgement  _ and _ hers, they’d progressed past just shagging and to a real relationship of sorts.  

Bloody hell, he’d gotten jealous when she’d gone with Potter and his Missus to the muggle cinema the weekend before.  He’d sulked in his flat, chewing on his bottom lip because she hadn’t even thought it something he’d be interested in. 

And it wasn’t!  He didn’t need to do  _ any _ muggle activities, thank you very much, Granger.  But it wasn’t that.  It was that she hadn’t even  _ thought _ to include him.  He’d automatically been prepared to laugh to himself and beg out.  But then she hadn’t even  _ asked _ him.  The infuriating woman.    

The infuriating, bewitching, utterly beguiling, hopelessly gorgeous woman with whom he might as well admit he was in love before he gave himself an aneurism or earned himself a spot in St. Mungo’s for self-argument of the worst kind.  

And he hadn’t even said it first.  She had.  In an offhand sort of way.  As she was falling asleep.  As if it were a given and he  _ wouldn’t _ keep himself up thinking it to death.  As if it were the most natural thing in the world.  To love  _ him _ .  

The infuriating woman.  

He briefly entertained not reciprocating the sentiment.  It was true that he had waited a good long while to repeat the words back to her, but knowing Hermione as he did, he knew she’d likely rather him know precisely what he meant to say before just blurting the words back.  

He did know her rather well, didn’t he?  

Draco turned back towards her, his nose itching when a tendril of her hair began to sneak its way up his left nostril.  Her hair really was ridiculous, wasn’t it?  

He used one hand to push it to the side and pressed his face against the side of her neck.  It was ridiculous and it was also one of the things he loved about her.  

He also loved the two dimples right above her arse.  And her lower back, the way it arched when he ran his fingers lightly up her spine.  The way she smiled when he said something especially witty.  It was this long-suffering sort of look.  He’d usually say more and more witty things, trying to make her gaze at him in that way she had.  

Was this love?  It was so much simpler than he’d been made to believe.  If love was just enjoying the presence of another human, why was love such a mystery? 

It was honestly the easiest thing he’d ever done.  If this was indeed love.  If this warmth in his chest that spread out to his fingers was love.

He exhaled slowly, letting out the breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding until that moment.  

“I love you too, Granger…” he murmured softly.  

He was surprised to feel her stir.  For her to roll over, covering his face with her hair once more and requiring him to find his way out in order to see and breathe. 

She gazed over at him, shaking her head with that long suffering look he so adored.  

“You’re a right mess, Malfoy,” she said.  “Took you long enough, didn’t it?  Thought I was going to die from old age…”  

He scoffed and leaned over to kiss her lips.  He nuzzled her nose with his, unable to see the freckles that decorated the bridge of it, but knowing they were there all the same.  “Old age, is it?  You hide it so well, darling.”  

She made an overly exaggerated retching sound.  “Don’t start with that nonsense or I’ll take it back.”  

“What nonsense?” he asked, knowing full well what she was referring to.  

“That ‘darling’ nonsense.  It doesn’t suit you.”  

“Pookie?” he teased.  “My little pumpkin pasty?”  

“Draco,” she warned.  

“Treacle tart.”  

“I will leave right now.”  

“My bookish beauty…” he murmured, capturing her lips.  The rest of her half-hearted protests were muffled and eventually collapsed into giggles as he kissed his way down her jaw, moving ever lower.

“Again?” she asked, giggling when he dipped his tongue inside her navel.

“Yes… if it’s agreeable with you, Granger…”  

She hummed, her hands finding the back of his head and pushing him still lower.  “Very agreeable.”    


	15. James/Lily, 'True Faith' - New Order, for amidtheflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is 'True Faith' - New Order, 1987.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Part 1 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277039/chapters/25971375).

James sighed happily and laid himself back on their bed to gaze up at the ceiling. “Honestly, love, it’s whoever you want to invite at this point… So long as Sirius gets an invitation. He’s my best man.”

Lily glanced over at him from the desk, where she was fiddling with feathered end of her quill, a smile temporarily replacing the worried grimace that had been making its home there more and more often since they’d graduated.  

There was a scrap of parchment in front of her.  ‘Guest List’ had been written at the top, and that wass as far as she’d gotten before she began chewing on her bottom lip.  Who  _ could _ they invite?  

Marlene had owled her to congratulate Lily on her engagement and to announce that she and her family would be going into hiding.  Lily bit down harder on her lip to stop the fresh flow of tears. She was getting married.  Planning her wedding to the only man she’d ever considered for the position.  She should be happy.  Giddy.  

Instead, there was a cloud over the whole thing.  Friends in hiding.  You-Know-Who’s ranks were growing.  It was a full-blown war now.  They were at war.  

“I can hear you thinking, Carrots,” James said.  The bedsprings squeaked when he sat up.

“So you’re a legilimens now?” Lily teased, shooting him what she hoped was a strong smile. 

“Come here…” His hand was on hers as he tugged her back towards the bed and into his arms as he laid back once more.  

Lily inhaled his scent, wishing at once she could only bury herself in his chest and sleep until all the awfulness had passed.  She couldn’t do that.  But she  _ could _ allow herself thirty seconds to wallow.

James’ hand stroked over the back of her head.  “What’s the matter?”  

“What isn’t?” she retorted.  “Marlene’s unable to come.  My parents either.  My sister flat out refused.  Who is there for me to invite? It’s too dangerous to have a wedding right now...”

James pressed his lips to her forehead.  “Do you want to postpone it?”      

She shook her head.  “No.  I can’t shack up with you forever, James.”  

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lily.  There’s nothing you can’t do.”  His lips met hers, a hot, raspy press against her mouth.  His tongue slid out, gently prodding.  She parted her lips willingly, sliding her hand up into his hair.  Holding him fast, because she didn’t want him letting go just yet.  

She knew he was being a cheeky sod, but there was some truth hidden in there somewhere.  As was the usual with James Potter.  Mostly cheek, with tiny amounts of raw truth.  It was why she loved him.  

He took her bottom lip between her teeth, flicking at it with his tongue, mimicking another  _ certain _ act he performed with that same tongue and making her belly swoop down to her knees.  

It was  _ one of _ the many reasons she loved him.  She broke off the kiss, leaving him to chase her lips as she settled back against the front of him.  

“I don’t  _ want _ to shack up with you forever, James,” she corrected herself, smiling warmly against his t-shirt.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and turned slightly, slotting herself against his side.  “I want to be your wife.”  

“Then, I don’t mean to sound crass or thoughtless, Carrots.  But who the fuck cares who we’re inviting?  I know we said we’d do something small.  How about something downright miniscule?”

“How miniscule?” she asked, propping herself up to look him in the eye.  She was intrigued. 

“Just the officiant, you and me, Sirius and one other witness.”

“That certainly  _ is _ miniscule.”   

“Too right.  Something that tiny, it wouldn’t take any time at all to plan.”  His hand was moving slowly, but surely, down from her waist.  He curved his palm over the roundness of her arse, squeezing a little.  “Might even have time to do some of the fun ‘shacking up’ things we won’t get to do once we’re married…”    

She moved her leg up and over his hips, moving herself astride him so she could look James right in the eyes.  Arching an eyebrow, she rocked her hips slowly.  “Do you really think I’ll give up any of that fun once we’re married?  Because you are sorely mistaken, James Potter.”  

He grinned widely.  “How sorely? Will I be able to walk tomorrow?  Because I’ll need to make arrangements if I can’t.”  

Rolling her eyes, she sat up more, straightening her back into a full stretch.  “We still need to pick a date.  And one other witness.”  

James held out his hand.  “Accio calendar,” he said without moving.  His desk calendar flew into his hand and he turned it around, pointing out that coming Saturday.  “How about this one?”  

Lily’s eyes widened.  “So soon?”  

He scoffed.  “Not soon  _ enough _ , you mean.  Of course, it would have only been soon enough if I could have married you the day I met you.  But, I suppose… what with the both of us being eleven at the time, it wasn’t ideal, so this is the next best date.”  

She smiled down at him.  “I love you.”  

“I love  _ you _ .  Now, I’ve picked the date.  Pick your witness…”  

Lily pressed her lips together, realizing that the end result would be the same no matter who she picked.  So, she just picked the first name she could think of.  “Alice.”  

“Longbottom?” James asked.  “Perfection.  I dunno why she wasn’t your first choice all along.”  

She shrugged, watching as James sent the calendar back to his desk.  “So… we should owl the officiant…shouldn't we?”  

“Later,” he said, tugging at the button on her jeans. “We’ll have plenty of time after.”  

“After?” Lily arched a brow deftly.  “I suppose so, seeing as it should only take what?  About fifteen minutes?”  

James’s cheeks reddened and he ran his tongue over his teeth before sitting straight up and rolling her over to the side.  “Right, you wait there.  I’ll owl the officiant now, because just for that?  I’m going to keep you in this bed for  _ hours _ .”  His voice sent tingles of promise up and down her spine.  

“Hours?”  Lily giggled.  “Are you planning on tying me down?”  The thought wasn’t entirely without merit, even though the kinkiest thing she and James had ever done was sneak around at Hogwarts.  

“Shouldn't need to,” he replied.  “I know what you like. How to keep you here…” 

He was certainly right about that.   


	16. Fred/Hermione, 'Karma Chameleon' by Culture Club, for Anon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is 'Karma Chameleon' by Culture Club, 1983.

 

Hermione summoned her knickers, and was surprised when they flew into her hand from across the room.  “My goodness, you certainly chucked those, didn’t you?” 

Fred smirked from his current position on the bed: arms tucked behind his head as he watched her attempt to dress.  “As I recall,  _ you _ were the one in a hurry to get them off.”  

“You say that as if my plans didn’t benefit you  _ immensely _ .”  

He chuckled, rolling over to wrap his arms around her still bare waist, inhibiting her from going anywhere, much less continuing on her endeavor to clothe her nude form.  Sighing, he nuzzled against her waist in a way that made her pause.  “Fred?” she asked, reaching down to run her fingers through his hair.  “Is something the matter?”  

“Nothing that can’t wait until you aren’t in a hurry.”  

Hermione dropped her bra onto the floor from whence it came.  “I’m not in a hurry now…” She lay back down on the bed, welcoming his head as he pillowed it on her abdomen.  “Tell me.”  

“Well… at the risk of sounding like a tosser, I have a question for you,” he began.  

“A question that makes you sound like a tosser…” she mused aloud.  

“Well, I mean…  _ hopefully _ it won’t.  But it might.  So I guess there’s your warning, ‘Mione.”  

She braced herself for whatever it might be, passing the agonizingly slow seconds by dragging her fingertips through Fred’s hair.  “Consider me warned.”  

“Why haven’t you told anyone about us yet?” he asked.  

Hermione was so surprised by the question that she stammered a couple times, unable to form the words.  

“I mean, I understand if it’s because of your work or something, but I mean… I’d like to know… I’m very excited about you and I starting things up and keeping them up, but if you think it’s going to hurt your chances at the Ministry… I guess I could do this in secret for as long as you wanted.  But if it’s just something like you don’t wanna hurt Ron’s feelings or whatnot, I’d like to know.  Because Hermione, it’s been  _ years _ since you two dated and--”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Hermione interjected.  “Before you go a step further into your rambling, what makes you think that it was  _ me _ who wanted to keep it quiet?  I thought that was what  _ you _ wanted!”  

He snorted out a laugh.  “Why would  _ I _ want that?”  

“You were the one who lied to George when he asked what we were doing in the storeroom.”  

“I lied  _ for  _ you,” Fred insisted.  “I thought that maybe a nice girl like you wouldn't want it spread around that we were shagging in the store room.”  

“Fred, this is the happiest I’ve ever been in a relationship.  Why wouldn’t I want everyone knowing?  Also, I dunno if you know this, but you’re well fit.  You’re a catch.  I’ve done rather well for myself, Mr. Weasley.”

“Oh, tosh.  You’re a lush bird, Granger.  I’m the one who’s made a catch.”  

She tugged him up for a kiss.  “And to think of all the times I could have just  _ told _ Ginny.  It’s much harder to keep a secret from your sister than not.”  

“You don’t think I know that?  She’s almost figured it out a few times, but I’d start talking about some other girl and throw her off the scent.”  

Hermione laughed, but then stopped.  “What other girl?”  

Fred kissed her.  “Literally no one. I made her up.  Gin might think there’s some woman chatting me up at the Leaky Cauldron, though.”  

Hermione wrinkled her nose.  “Who on earth would chat you up at the Cauldron?” 

“Oi, now.  She put me on the spot, she did,” Fred insisted.  “Besides, if we’re telling people, I can just tell her it was you.”  

“Great.  Then she’ll think  _ I _ was chatting you up at the Leaky Cauldron.”  

“‘Mione, I hate to tell you this, but you’ve been chatting me up all over Diagon Alley.  I don’t think it’s really a lie.”  

“We’ve never been to the Leaky Cauldron together.”  

“We’ll have to go then.  Can’t have me lying to my little sister on your account.  You wily minx…”  Fred kissed her lips once more, lingering just a touch longer than was strictly necessary. Or maybe it was Hermione who was lingering.  Or both.  She rather liked being his wily minx. 

“Did you ever stop to think that  _ this _ was the problem?” Hermione brushed her fingers over his lips.  “We’ve been doing nothing but snogging and shagging and we haven’t been talking? That maybe if we’d been using our lips for something other than…” she trailed off, dragging her thumb down over Fred’s bottom lip.  “You know…”  

“That we might have hit on this a lot sooner?” he finished for her, before sucking her thumb into his mouth momentarily.  

“Well, yes.  That.”    

He pushed up off the bed, grabbing his pants and tugging them on as he crossed the floor to the window.  

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked, reaching for the sheet to cover herself.  

“I’m going to make up for lost time, Granger.  And show you once and for all that I have never been happier in a relationship than I am with you.”  

He reached for the window and threw it open, leaning out to look around.  

The thing to be understood in this precarious situation, is that Fred occupied the flat above the shop.  So by opening up the window and leaning out shirtless, he was essentially exposing himself to all of Diagon Alley. 

“TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN,” he began, his voice loud and booming as he addressed everyone in Diagon Alley.  

Hermione collapsed into a fit of laughter and attempted to burrow under the blankets. Her cheeks were flaming red.    

“HERMIONE GRANGER AND I HAVE BEEN SHAGGING UP A STORM FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS!  SO MUCH THAT WE BARELY HAD TIME TO--”  

He was cut off by a much louder screech from the sidewalk below.  

“FREDERICK WEASLEY!”

It was a very familiar screech. The likes of which Hermione hadn’t heard since her Hogwarts days and it was emanating from the bright red Howlers that Ron had gotten once or twice..  

Hermione had to muffle her laughter in a pile of pillows.  

“Oh.  Hi, Mum…” he nodded downwards.  “And young James too.  I see you’re out with your Gram…”  

Hermione quickly summoned all her clothes, dressing in a hurry because she was anticipating a visit from Molly Weasley.  As well as somehow explaining to a three-year-old what ‘shagging’ was.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Phantasmagoria](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11646432) by [KatieHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/pseuds/KatieHavok)




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